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He’s like an eclipse—simultaneously dark and light, and not safe to look at for too long without suffering a burn.
Blue is a poet, a dreamer. Loyal to love and forgiving of its madness.
People should be more like dogs—with unwavering and unconditional love no matter what. Always happy to see us, always grateful to be with us, never hurting us.
“Yeah. One day I woke up with wings and I could sing, and suddenly my name was Blue.” His words sound poetic—like the words from his songs. And I can see that Lyric believes them as such. But something deep in my gut is telling me they’re not just words at all.
Blue stares at the sky with such an intense longing I fear he’s going to leap right into the clouds and try to follow that balloon.
